Black and White
by AllixEverwood
Summary: 7TH Year AU: Dumbledore never died, and he, Ron and Harry are out searching for Horcruxes. However, Voldemort's army is growing, and Draco Malfoy is caught in the middle of it. If that wasn't bad enough, he was named Head Boy with none other than Hermione Granger.
1. Chapter 1

Draco was sick to his stomach. Perhaps it was the sheer amount of chocolate his mother had force fed him before he left, perhaps it was the incessant rocking of the train, or, most likely, it was the fact that he had to share a train car with the fucking Mudblood Granger. He hissed at her under her breath, incensed at simply being within a radius of her, but her bushy head was stuck in yet another book. God, all she did was read. No wonder she had no friends.

Why the hell was he even _here_? Everyone knew Lucius was on the Dark Lord's side. Shit, the whole grade almost found out Draco was a Death Eater, thanks to that crap Potter pulled last spring. But his mother forced him into returning and begged for him to be put in school, for his own safety. Lucius had scowled at her, sighed, and told Draco that they needed an insider, someone who could watch Dumbledore and the Order while Potter and Weasley were out doing God-knows-what, causing trouble-or at least trying to, those idiots could never succeed-for Voldemort and his followers. Voldemort had agreed, for some reason, and, furthermore, Draco suspected that some use of the Imperius curse had been used on the weaker links inside Hogwarts. How else would he have been called to be Head Boy?

He glared at Granger yet again, willing her to look up. She refused, and her head stayed firmly down.

"Granger," he called out. Might as well have a little fun while he was here. He saw her eyes flick up for half a second, then return to the page.

"Granger!" No response.

"Hey, Mudblood, I'm talking to you." THAT got her attention, and she looked up and glared at him.

"What, Malfoy?" He grinned, and stretched back lazily, crossing one leg over the other.

"Oh, nothing." She narrowed her eyes, and looked back down at her book.

"Hey, where are Potter and Weasley?"

"I don't know." It was a rote response, he could tell.

"You _must_ be worried about your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend." Her eyes were hard.

"Aw, did he dump you? I'm sorry. Finally realized he couldn't let dirt into his family, although they're just as bad, filthy muggle-lovers." She threw her book to the side.

"Shut. Up." Ooh, that got her. Her hands were white and shaking, clenched into fists.

"Oh, never." He laughed, cold and uncaring.

She stood up abruptly, books falling to the floor. She pushed open the cabin door and stalked out, leaving the door open behind her. Draco stood, smirking, and swung around the door.

"Hey, Granger!" He yelled after her retreating back. She didn't turn around. He rolled his eyes and ducked back into his cabin. He waited for her to come back, but she didn't return, and he spent the rest of the trip idly staring out the window, tracing figures in the fogged-up glass. At one point he drew the Dark Mark without thinking, and then hastily scrubbed it out, turning around to make sure no one had seen. He chastised himself under his breath for being so damn paranoid, and took up his robes to go change. On the way back, he caught a glimpse of bushy hair in a passing cabin. He was about to go back and look if it was her, but he didn't want to look like he actually gave a shit about her.

One of the sliding doors squeaked open, and Pansy stepped out.

"Draco!" she squealed, throwing her arms around him. Pansy was his on-again girlfriend at the moment, although right now he didn't want anything to do with her.

"Get off me, Pansy." She scowled.

"Fuck you, Draco." He pushed past her. She would get over it. He was at his wit's end. His stomach still hurt, and his temple had started throbbing. All he wanted to do was collapse in his bed and sleep for days. He rubbed his eyes. Fuck everything. The train jolted to a stop, and he caught the edge of the door handle. Granger's books slid to the side of the compartment. He had forgotten they were still there. He wasn't about to be here when she came back for them, though, so he tugged his trunks off of the shelves. He lifted the biggest with a simple spell, and hoisted the other into the air.

He got a thestral to himself, thank god. He stepped into it, slamming the door behind him. He waited. Nothing.

"Move, you stupid…death horse." The thestral turned his head, rolling one blank eye back in his head. "Shut up," He growled.

"Nobody's talking, Malfoy." The low door swung open, and Hermione stepped in. Her composure was steel, although she did have a slight hint of a smile playing around her mouth.

"Why the _fuck_ are you here?"

"Well, see, Malfoy, there's these things called Head Boy and Head Girl. Crazily enough, they've got to do things together. Like ride in carriages pulled by invisible things. Even if they don't want to." His head was pounding now, and he didn't want to deal with Granger and her newfound cockiness.

"What did you do to get all of this confidence, Granger? Snog Longbottom in the loo? I can promise you he didn't know what he was getting into." She blushed furiously, and then looked angry with herself that she reacted.

"Yeah, sure I did, Malfoy. At least I'm getting some." She sat down with a thump as the carriage started moving.

"Oh, darling, you better believe I'm getting some," he smirked. He raised one eyebrow at her and she looked away.

"I didn't snog Neville."

"Obviously." Thankfully, she shut up after that, and the minute that they reached the castle, he jumped out and threw his trunks at the first house elf he saw. "Draco Malfoy," he snarled. Not waiting for anyone, he stormed towards the gates.

"Mister Malfoy, sir. Stop, please, sir." Filch leered at him from behind the padlocked iron. "I'm sorry, are we still doing this idiotic 'checking' people thing? That didn't work out very well last year." He immediately regretted saying that, because Snape glared at him over Filch's head.

"Sorry." he muttered, and stood still while Filch passed a wand up and down his robes.

"All clear," he announced. The gates slowly squeaked open, and Draco brushed rust off of his collar. As he walked through the darkened grass, a hand caught his sleeve. Draco swung around, wand drawn already, to find Snape looming over him.

"You were about to hex? Idiot. Stay out of trouble, Draco. Do I make myself absolutely clear?" Draco nodded, forcing a snarky response down the back of his throat.

"That means NO trouble. Especially with Granger. Ignore her if you must. Just don't do anything that could get you expelled." He nodded again, and tugged his arm out of Snape's cold hand. He stalked up to the doors and joined the stream of students entering the school. There was a group of first-year girls next to him, skinny and little. They were looking up at him, whispering and twittering.

This year was going to be fucking hell, he knew it already.


	2. Chapter 2

Draco sat alone on the Slytherin bench, barely hearing the buzz of the crowd around him. Pansy sat a ways away, glaring at him every few seconds while a group of girls gossiped around her. He sighed. He couldn't deal with her, now or in the foreseeable future. He looked around. Everyone else was laughing, talking, unconcerned with anything going on outside the Great Hall and the new first-years and the just-appeared desserts on the tables. Everyone, he noticed with a start, except Hermione. Curious. He would have expected her to be annoying the first-years with attention. Although, he realized, she really was alone. Potter and Weasley were gone. They hadn't come back on the train, and he somehow knew this wasn't like second year. They weren't coming back.

Dumbledore rose and the noise in the Hall fell to silence.

"Greetings to those young and old, new or veteran. Welcome back. I suppose many of you were wondering if the precarious nature of our current political situation would prevent us from returning to these hallowed halls."

That was a nice way to put it, Draco thought spitefully. By precarious, he meant that the Ministry was about to be overthrown by competent leaders who would ensure that the Wizarding World returned to its rightful state of being.

"There have been many rumors involving an incident that occurred last spring involving Mr. Potter and myself, and I urge you to understand that they are nothing more than that—mere rumors."

So he was covering up Snape and Draco's involvement. Interesting.

"Let me assure you that despite the state of the outside world, life at Hogwarts will remain as it always has been, and the same rules and regulations apply to all those within the castle. The Forbidden Forest is to remain, well—Forbidden," he paused, smiling slightly, and seemed to look right at Draco.

"I must remind you that right now, loyalty is of the utmost importance. During these trying times, coming together as one can only make us stronger. Despite your House, you all are students of Hogwarts. The students inside these walls make up a family, and family is to be protected." Draco rolled his eyes. As if he would count himself family to some of these people—Mudbloods and the like. Ridiculous, honestly.

"If I may, after the feast is done, speak to the prefects of each house—first-years will be led to their dormitories by their Heads of Houses. Also, Miss Granger, Mr. Malfoy—your Head Girl and Head Boy—please attend this meeting as well." He adjusted his half-moon glasses. "Please do keep eating. The mint ice cream is excellent tonight." He sat down in his high-backed chair. Draco looked at the desserts with distaste, but picked up a golden fork and played with it until the students began to trickle out of the room. He did _not_ want to go see Dumbledore, much less talk to any of the other prefects, who he knew for a fact included Weasley's little sister—Ginny— and that odd Ravenclaw girl. He noticed the Slytherin prefects looking at him, unsure whether they should go up without him. He heaved a sigh and got up, dropping the fork on the table. Making his way through the last of the students leaving, he saw Hermione and Ginny whispering to each other up ahead. Ginny glanced back, red hair shining under the candlelight, and nudged Hermione. She looked back too, mouth set firmly. He was catching up to them now; having such long legs gave him an advantage in situations such as these.

"You know, Granger, if you don't want me to know you're talking about me, you had better be less obvious," he spat. He didn't wait for her response, brushing past Ginny. He paused, wanting to take out his frustration and headache on someone.

"Oh, and Weasley—you should tell your father to watch out," he said icily. "His utter fascination with Muggles may rub some very powerful people the wrong way. I certainly wouldn't want him to be fired." He relished the surprise that spread across her face, which quickly turned to anger.

"Shove off, Malfoy."

"Charming." He strode away, the tension in his shoulders lessening slightly. Approaching Dumbledore, he stepped to stand with Conrad Talto and Alessandria Bellecoup, the Slytherin prefects. They looked at him with a mixture of pride and fear, and he knew that the story of last spring had spread quickly through the pureblood families, many of whom aligned themselves with the Death Eater cause, or at least were close with people that did. Icarus Bellecoup was a prominent Death Eater himself, so Alessandria probably knew the full truth. He didn't know how that made him feel.

The rest of the prefects were there now, too—Lovegood and a boy he thought was named Markus from Ravenclaw, Weasley and Creevey from Gryffindor, and honestly, who gave a fuck about Hufflepuff? Hermione was resolutely not looking at him, eyes fixed upon Dumbledore.

"I wanted to meet with you all today because this year, you will have greater responsibilities than most." Draco wondered, yet again, what he was doing among the rest of them. Dumbledore knew he was a Death Eater, obviously. God, he had almost killed Dumbledore last spring, before Snape had stepped in and taken over the task. Draco would never admit it to anyone, but he was happy when Snape had knocked him out of the way. He had hesitated, too, however, and Dumbledore had thrown himself off the roof to safety while Death Eaters spilled out onto the tower. There had been hell to pay for that one—Draco still had silvery scars etched across his ribcage.

"The threat of Voldemort grows stronger with each passing day," Dumbledore said, ignoring the winces and sharp intakes of breath that came with the utterance of the Dark Lord's name. "We must act together, for Voldemort acts alone." That was decidedly _not_ true, Draco thought, he has an army much stronger than Dumbledore's ever could be. Dumbledore must have seen something in Draco's face, because he smiled.

"Yes, he does have his Death Eaters, but how much of them are tied to him by fear, by lust for power, by a need to prove their might? That, my dear students, is much different than love."

"Good thing we all love each other so dearly," Draco said, unable to stop the biting response. Dumbledore regarded him with icy blue eyes, silent.

"That, Mr. Malfoy, is the spirit." He smiled again. "That is all. You may go."

Draco didn't need to be told again, and he turned, a scowl on his face, and stalked out of the room.


End file.
